


For Fuck's Sake

by lockandminkey



Category: SHINee
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bottom Choi Minho, Domestic, Established Relationship, Language Kink, M/M, So this is just blatantly pwp, Top Kim Kibum | Key, hooty hoo, idk fam it's rough-ish sex but they rly love each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 03:58:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14560374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lockandminkey/pseuds/lockandminkey
Summary: Minho takes a special interest in the sounds of Kibum's English.





	For Fuck's Sake

**Author's Note:**

> SO I posted this to tumblr like last year and finally decided to post it here. Kibum speaks a fair amount of English in this fic, so I denoted the English with an extra quote mark and italicized text. So like...."'this.'" That's not italicized cause I don't know how to put italics in notes. But you get it, this is porn, not a hackathon lmao ANYWHOM If you like this pls consider leavin a comment maybe? It would really make me smile!

 

Minho is sat on the couch, diligently taking down notes. A round of examinations for his grad school program is coming; he is in his second year of physical therapy school, and these exams will mark the end of the fourth round of rotations…if, of course, he passes. He isn’t particularly worried about failing, but his inner perfectionist will not let him give anything less than his best effort anyway. He is adjusting the sleeves of his sweater when he hears a crash coming from the kitchen. Before Minho can even open his mouth to ask if his partner is okay, he hears him remark in angry English,

“‘ _Oh, for fuck’s sake._ ’”

Minho’s brow furrows.

Like all other Korean children, he had taken English classes all through middle school and part of high school, dropping it after his junior year of the latter, the exact instant he was allowed to. Now twenty four years old, a great deal of it had been forgotten. He had nothing against the language; on the contrary, he found its many intricacies fascinating, but they were too…well…intricate, for him. He felt similarly about space. Cool to look at, too much effort to actually go to. His partner Kibum, on the other hand, had gone above and beyond the requirement, double majoring in it alongside fashion design in college, and studying abroad in Los Angeles one summer. His English was nearly perfect, and it was a gorgeous sound on Minho’s ears, even though he understood precious little of it.

He doesn’t understand what Kibum just exclaimed from their kitchen, but he seems frustrated, so Minho puts his book down and walks cautiously to the kitchen.

“Hey, are you alright?”

Kibum is staring down at their Tupperware collection as if he is disappointed in it; the open cabinet and mess of plastic tell the story without Kibum saying a word.

Kibum sighs. “Yeah, thanks for asking. Would you mind helping me with this?’

Minho smiles. “I’m happy to!”

As they gather the plastic bowls into their hands, Minho thinks back to the phrase he heard Kibum exclaim when the Tupperware fell. He can’t remember it perfectly what it was; he recognizes the word  _for_ at least, but that isn’t any help. 

“Can you say it for me again?”

Kibum turns to him, confused.

“Say what again?”

Minho sighs, wishing he could remember exactly what was said. It sounded like gibberish, but he makes the best guess he can.

“When you were upset about the Tupperware, the thing you said then? It had an ‘F’ sound, I think?”

Kibum places the last of the bowls in the cabinet. “Oh, you mean ‘ _fuck?_ ’”

Minho nods in earnest. “‘ _Fuck,_ ’” he repeats innocently, and Kibum giggles, covering his mouth with his large hand.

Minho pouts. “Did I say something funny?”

“No no no,” Kibum chuckles. “You’re cute!”

“Cute? Cute how?”

Kibum takes in a deep breath to compose himself. “That’s a swear word, Bambi!”

Minho cocks his head to the side. “Is it?” he questions, and his naivety is nothing short of endearing to Kibum, especially when accompanied by the little head tilt and questioning eyes that remind him of how he came to chose his pet name for Minho in the first place.

“Yes,” he explains patiently. “It can mean a few different things. We don’t have a Korean word that covers all of its meanings, so I can’t translate it directly, but I can tell you what it means if you are curious.”

Minho thinks about it for a moment, and then his curiosity gets the better of him and he nods.

“Well, it can be just something you say when you’re angry. It’s rude, but if you say it by itself it most commonly means you’re upset.”

“Right…?”  
“It also is a particularly strong way to talk about sex. It can have that sort of connotation as well. For example…uh…I might say that…I promise I will ‘ _fuck_ ’ you later. Do you see what I mean?”

Minho’s ears turn pink. He’s barely aware that his eyes have gone bigger until he feels them sting for lack of blinking, accompanied by the burning sensation in the cockles of his ears at the sentence. Kibum has definitely got the point across, and something about that word fell from his lips…Minho is intrigued, to say the least. It must have not gotten past Kibum, because he asks,

“Are you okay, sweetheart?”

Minho gulps a little.

“Me? Yeah…to-totally good, normal, peachy…!”

Kibum laughs a little as Minho hurries back to the living room to get back to studying. He suspects that’s not the last he will hear of that one.

He is proven correct only a short while later. After dinner is over and they’ve done the dishes, they’re cuddled up on the sofa watching the American program MasterChef, Minho following along with the Korean subtitles as per his usual. Minho usually takes a shower after they do the dishes to decompress from the day’s events as well, and so his hair is still a little damp to Kibum’s touch. Kibum is lounging back against the armrest with both legs on the couch, and Minho is laying between his legs with his cheek pressed against his heart. Suddenly, Gordon Ramsay swears, his mouth blurred out and a computerized little bleep playing in lieu of the word in question. Which jogs Minho’s memory back to that afternoon.

“Kibum?” He asks, looking up from his position to talk to his partner.

“Mm?”

“Can you say it again for me?”

Kibum’s brow furrows, trying to remember exactly what the last thing he said to Minho was…he knows he told Minho he loves him in the past half-hour, perhaps that’s what he means?

“I love you,” he says again, happy to indulge his partner, adjusting a strand of his hair for good measure.

“No,” Minho counters. He then immediately realizes he has made a mistake and splutters, “Wait, sorry, I didn’t mean I don’t love you or don’t wanna hear that you love me, cause I do love you and I do want to listen to you, I just meant…I wanted you to say that word again.”

Kibum looks down at him, staring at the shy look in his big round eyes. They’d been together five years now, but there were still scant moments when Minho was a little bashful around him, and each of those moments seemed to revolve around a specific theme.

“You mean ‘ _fuck?_ ’”

A gentle pink dusts Minho’s cheeks and Kibum smirks a little. He thought so.

“Do you like it when I say that?” Kibum prods knowingly as Minho scrambles to get into a more upright sitting position so as to more easily make eye contact. Once fully facing him, Minho nods in affirmation.

“I don’t know why, so I can’t answer for that, but…you just say it so…it-it’s unique and pretty and-”

“Just like you,” Kibum blurts without really thinking, and Minho smiles, adjusting the sleeves of his sweater bashfully. “Sorry, go on?”

“What I am trying to say is,” he starts again, “I want you to say it again. Use it in a full sentence again, something, anything, I just want to hear it more.”

Kibum’s eyes narrow as a sultry little smile etches across his sharp features. Reaching into the space between them, he cups Minho’s jaw before stroking downward to his chin and tilting it so that they are making direct eye contact. Leaning in, so close that they’re nearly nose to nose, Minho shivers at the sensation of Kibum’s breath on his lips as he whispers, deep and low, to him.

“‘ _I want to fuck you._ ’”

Minho does not speak much English. He will avoid speaking it to other people unless he has no other options. But he fully understands what was just said to him, and it shows; his entire body goes rigid, he blinks rapidly a few times, his breath catches in his throat.

For a moment, Kibum looks over Minho, studying his response; Minho understood, and Kibum knows he did, and for just a moment, they are locked in an electrical silence in which Kibum reconnects their foreheads and cups Minho’s jaw, the tips of his fingers finding their way into Minho’s hair as their eyes fall shut.

“How does that sound?”

Minho shudders again. He wants so badly to kiss him and be kissed, to pull Kibum on top of him and be marked in angry bruises and pouded against the armrest, but he has to make a request first. Regretfully, he moves back, and Kibum opens his eyes in concern.

“Is everything okay? Do you not want to, because if you don’t want to it’s al-”

“No,” Minho interrupts hastily. “I want to, I just want to try something new.”

That catches Kibum’s attention. “Oh? Do we have the right supplies for it? I can go back and get your blindfold if you want me to.”

“No,” Minho says again, more urgently this time. “We don’t need anything but us. Normally, you talk dirty to me, and I love that, but…” his cheeks blush brilliant red, but with a burst of confidence, he asks, “Do you think you can do that in English this time…for me?”

It’s Kibum’s turn to widen his eyes in surprise. It takes him less than a second to recover, though, and then he’s coursing his hand into Minho’s hair and leaning back in towards him.

“Minho,” Kibum purrs, “if you’re so flustered just hearing the word ‘fuck,’ do you think you can handle it?”

“Let’s find out,” Minho returns boldly before hungrily closing the space between them at last.

Each kisses the other in earnest, the sounds of their forgotten program melting into the fuzzy, non-existent world outside of one another’s touch.

Kibum’s fingers curl into Minho’s fine black hair, thumb brushing over his cheekbones as he slides his lips to fit snugly around the plush lower one, sucking gently on it as Minho’s hand find his shoulders. As Minho pulls Kibum towards him, he feels him brush his tongue over his lower lip, and he shudders before complyingly tilting his head further to allow it entry. The sensation of Kibum’s tongue against his, hot, wet, and persistent, has Minho moving his hands so that both of them are eagerly thrown around Kibum’s neck, submitting even now to him, with half a mind to pull his partner on top of him and beg to be fucked as Kibum had promised.

Kibum fumbles for a moment to find the remote; with his eyes closed and his focus on Minho, it takes a few moments, but he is able to find purchase. Skimming his thumb along it, he blindly locates the power button and turns the program off before tossing the remote on the carpeted floor. With that out of the way, he places his hand at the small of Minho’s back, pulling him closer as he moves away from Minho’s lips to lick at the underside of his jaw.

The open mouthed kisses being sucked into his neck have Minho’s head falling back, half to allow Kibum better access and half out of a primal desire to have him mark him up and take him over.

His arms, however, are starting to ache; he is leaning back, arms locked at the elbow to support himself, and the effort of this is starting to take its toll. Perhaps Kibum notices, or perhaps just senses it, because he slides the hand that had been against Minho’s back down and under the hem of his sweater. His other hand moves down as well, and with practiced ease he pulls Minho’s top up and over his head, tossing it carelessly onto the floor before bracing the small of his back and carefully easing Minho down to lay on the couch, Minho’s shoulders leaning against the armrest as Kibum moves to place more of his weight onto his partner.

They stay like that for several long minutes, tangled up in each other’s arms, Minho’s legs thrown around Kibum’s waist. Kibum dips them down to brush up against Minho’s erection, and a low, strangled moan tumbles out of Minho’s lips at the contact. His neck and shoulders, marked up with suck-bruises, are no longer Kibum’s focus; he is now toying with his pert brown nipples, rolling the left between long fingers while licking and kissing around the other. The attention elicits needy moans from Minho; Kibum knows exactly where Minho is most sensitive, and playing with such weaknesses brings with it its own sense of eroticism.

Minho tries to get Kibum to continue to grind against him by jerking his own hips up and against Kibum’s, and a soft groan, muffled a bit by Minho’s muscled chest, escapes him. Rather than immediately rolling his hips against Minho’s, however, he choses to kiss his way down to Minho’s waist, torturously slow, before finding the hem. The gesture is somewhere between unbuttoning and ripping as Kibum tears the fastener and zipper open in one motion. He looks to Minho for consent before casting both his pants and boxers off in one harsh tug, freeing Minho’s cock. It bobs up against Minho’s stomach, somewhat covering the wispy trail of hair that travels from beneath his navel to the base of his dick; his member is a bit longer than Kibum’s but not nearly as thick. Kibum knows how much Minho loves the sensation of his bare skin against Kibum’s fully clothed body, and so he indulges him, laying back on top of him and claiming his lips again. Taking Minho’s thigh in hand, he hikes his leg up to bring them closer before meeting Minho’s upward thrust with a downward one, and the roll of their hips against one another is perfect, eliciting a moan from each into the other’s mouth.

Trapped between the couch and his partner, Minho is overtaken by bliss, his hands roaming the clothed expanse of Kibum’s back, fingers running up and down his spinal column. However, he has not forgotten what brought them here.

He wants to hear filthy words and carnal promises rasped low and deep, wants to receive praise from Kibum, and he wants to hear it in English, wants to hear the way his voice goes even lower still, more focused, more deliberate, even hotter than usual, and he knows how he’s going to get it.

“Kibum,” Minho asks, pulling away, and Kibum feels a jolt travel down his spine at the neediness in Minho’s voice, “Please, Kibum, I want to suck your cock.”

Kibum nods enthusiastically; within moments, Minho is shimmying up a bit so that he’s a bit more upright but still supporting his back against the armrest. With a wordless tug on one of Kibum’s belt loops, he is able to communicate exactly what he wishes Kibum to do. Kibum moves his legs so that his thighs are straddling Minho’s chest, biting his lip in anticipation as Minho lifts his shirt and kisses his lower stomach, licking his way eagerly down to the button of Kibum’s pants. Kibum quickly casts both layers of his top off to allow Minho better access to the area.

Minho is skilled with his lips, tongue and teeth and Kibum knows it; he still barely stifles a moan at the way Minho undoes the button with his teeth, hands rested on the fabric covering Kibum’s thighs. Slowly, painfully slowly, he pulls the dark-wash down as far as possible given their position, kissing the flesh as it is exposed. Kibum’s thick thighs are a weakness of Minho’s; muscular yet supple at once, perfect for nestling his head between. The charcoal grey blue briefs complement Kibum’s light brown skin gorgeously, stained a bit darker in spots where precum has oozed forth.

Starting with the left thigh, Minho places his open mouth against the soft flesh, suckling it, stroking the other thigh slowly, not wanting it left out. He moves closer and closer to the hem of said briefs, but before he reaches them, he switches to the other leg with a simpering smile. Finally, he once again reaches the meeting of those perfect thighs; his mouth moves to kiss Kibum’s clothed erection and a frustrated hiss escapes the latter’s lips, Minho so close to where Kibum needs him the most, the wet kisses doing little to quench his desire for him.

“Fuck,” he groans, “Minho, just…”

Kibum seizes one of his partner’s comparatively smaller hands and places it at the hem of his briefs, and that’s enough to get the point across. Minho takes it with his teeth and pulls the underwear down a bit before moving them with his hand as low as is possible.

Kibum’s erection greets Minho at last, thick and heavy, waiting eagerly for him. Minho wraps one hand along the base, caressing Kibum’s inner thigh with the other, before kissing the shaft. His kisses are airy and gentle, but they build up anticipation like no other; Kibum grips Minho’s hair firmly, hoping to steer him towards the tip of his cock, untouched and eager for Minho’s attention. The feathery kisses, once patternless, start traveling up; Minho’s mouth opens too, and little licks accompany the kisses as he makes his way to the top. Finally, he reaches the head, and rewards Kibum’s patience by removing his hand from the base of his member and moving his face down to where his hand had been. He opens his mouth and licks with a flat tongue up the frenulum, and when he reaches the tip again, takes the entire head in his mouth and swirls his tongue sinfully over it.

Kibum gasps harshly, a raspy, gravelly noise, and Minho moans around him, excited by his partner’s audible arousal. He pulls off, pursing his lips gently against the tip and looking up at Kibum with big, eager eyes.

“Don’t forget, you promised,” Minho reminds him, and with that, he gets to work.

By pursing his lips just so and pushing against the head, Minho creates a tight, vacuum-like sensation as he hollows his cheeks and moves his head slowly down the length of the shaft. Kibum’s thick erection is heavy on his tongue, and in spite of how familiar this sensation is to both of them, neither of them can help but melt a little into the other, Minho’s nose finally bumping into Kibum’s lower stomach as Minho arrives at the base again.

“Holy fucking hell, Minho,” Kibum rasps at the contact. His senses go white, but he forces himself to focus as Minho moves his head, worshipping him with his tongue.

“‘ _You’re so good,’_ ” Kibum praises. He is unsure if Minho only wants to hear English, but decides to offer him a mix of both so he can still understand. “You’re so good, Minho,” he moans again, louder this time, “‘ _fuck._ ’”

Minho moans around Kibum as his hair is tugged at the root. As his tongue swirls, hard and passionate along the path of veins, Kibum thrusts hard into Minho’s mouth. A small sound emerges from Minho, somewhere between a moan and a strangled noise. Immediately, Kibum pulls out of Minho’s mouth, looking down at him with sweet concern.

“Oh, Minho, I’m so sorry,” he apologizes genuinely, stroking Minho’s cheek. “Are you okay?”

Minho grabs Kibum’s hips eagerly. “Kibum,” he returns, voice thick and needy with arousal, “If you’re not fucking my mouth, I’m not doing it right.”

Kibum’s eyes narrow as a little smirk forms on his lips. “Is that what you want then, Minho?”

Minho’s cheeks go pink again, but he smirks back. “Please.”

When Minho’s lips rejoin the tip of Kibum’s cock, it is with hungry urgency, and it is met with a snap of Kibum’s hips, forcing himself deeper into Minho, down to his throat. Now that Minho is anticipating it, rather than choke, Minho moans around it again, so beyond aroused by how eager Kibum is for him that he can’t help but to claw at Kibum’s hips, trying to bring them closer.

The way Minho moves is masterful, trained to give just as Kibum likes it, and it earns him the praise that so effectively gets him off that there are times when he has to pull away to compose himself before continuing.

Kibum can feel himself getting close; his toes are starting to curl, and the room is starting to become filled with his low moans. Frankly, he misses the sounds he knows Minho can make, the sounds he knows he can get him to make.

Digging his hand into Minho’s hair, he pulls him off of his erection, admiring his swollen lips and the burning in his cheeks.

“Minho,” he moans, “can I fuck you?”

Minho immediately shimmies down and looks up at Kibum eagerly. “Only if you keep talking to me like that,” he returns in earnest.

Kibum moves back, kicking his boxers the rest of the way off as he does, before leaning over his partner’s body and extending three fingers. Minho understands wordlessly, and lurches forward, suckling on those three fingers, feeling the pads of Kibum’s long fingers with his soft tongue. Once Kibum retracts them, he lowers them to Minho’s entrance before pressing them into him. Minho’s muscle memory, combined with their years of frequent sex, allows him to relax into the contact; he doesn’t really need to be prepared, but Kibum knows how much Minho loves it, and he is more than happy to provide. As he fingers him, Kibum lifts up Minho’s left leg and balances it against his shoulder, allowing himself easier access.

Kibum expertly curls his fingers within Minho and Minho nearly screams, arching spasmodically off the couch and thrusting himself against Kibum’s hand.

“‘ _You like that, don’t you,’_ ” Kibum teases, “ _‘you’re so hot like this, so eager._ ’ I wonder how long you will last for me like this…?”

“Kibum…” Minho begs. “Please…”

“Please what?” he returns, staring down at Minho.

“You know what!” Minho whines, so close to getting what he wants.

“Maybe,” Kibum taunts, pumping his fingers in and out again, “but I wanna hear you beg for it.”

Minho reaches between his legs to grip Kibum’s wrist in desperation. “Fuck me,” he begs, exactly as predicted, “please!”

Kibum pulls his digits out in a slow, teasing drag.

“Well,” he simpers, moving to align himself with Minho and slinging his other leg over his shoulder as well, “since you asked so nicely…”

The powerful thrust of Kibum’s hips elicits a cry between a moan and scream, and Kibum momentarily thinks of their neighbors before deciding he doesn’t care. Leaning over Minho with his legs hiked up on his shoulders, Kibum has Minho bent nearly in half as he fucks into him, looking down into his face, eyes fluttering back with pleasure as Minho finally gets what was promised.

“‘ _You feel amazing,’_ ” Kibum shudders, “‘ _you take it so well. You’re fucking gorgeous when you’re like this, so needy…_ ’”

Minho can’t understand most of the words, but the tone is gentle and sexually charged at once, and that can only mean one thing; praise. What exactly Kibum may be praising him for has his mind running rampant, and the way Kibum fucks him compliments it perfectly. Every thrust, every word, every kiss placed on his shoulders…it’s incredibly powerful, and it has Minho digging his nails against Kibum’s shoulder blades, head lolling back as he submits fully to his partner. The angle at which they meet each other is well practiced; each thrust meets its mark perfectly, and Minho can hear himself moaning and keening despite not being aware of the sounds escaping him.

Minho was always quick to cum, especially given Kibum’s well-practiced ministrations, but he holds on, keeping himself on the edge as long as he can, not wanting to finish just yet…still, his cock leaks against his stomach, darkening in color from the effort and growing wetter as the minutes pass.

Kibum, who had already been brought close to his own limits by Minho’s lips and tongue, can recognize the signs on Minho’s face that he’s starting to lose control at the exact moment that he realizes that he is, too.

“Minho,” Kibum moans out, and the sound of his own name in that moment causes an audible gasp to tumble from his lips. “‘ _You’re amazing, you…holy fuck, Minho…_ ’”

“God, Kibum, fuck, I’m so close…” Minho groans in response, chest starting to heave as the sensation of a coil in his abdomen tightens, barely under his control as it grows hotter and tighter.

“‘ _Come for me then, Minho.’_ ”

Minho can tell he is being given a command, but he cannot make out what it is he is meant to do. Eager to please, he tries his best to ask.

“Don’t…understand…” he pants, so close now he can hardly stand it, clawing desperately into Kibum’s back.

Kibum smirks down at him and repeats himself in their native Korean.

“Come for me, Minho.”

Minho snaps instantly, his orgasm hitting him with a throaty cry, clinging to Kibum’s shoulders and arching up as he comes over his chest and Kibum’s chin. Writhing with pleasure as the waves of his release sear through him, Minho moans out Kibum’s name, trying to catch his breath. Having screwed his eyes shut as his orgasm hit him, Minho feels rather than sees Kibum finish as well, opening his eyes just in time to see Kibum bury his face in the joining of Minho’s neck and shoulder, his low and raspy moans echoing through the confines of their tiny apartment.

It isn’t until a few minutes later, when Minho has convinced Kibum to shower with him, (rather than just lay about lazily in their post-coital state) that Kibum questions Minho’s interest in his English.

“I was being honest,” Minho tells him, offering Kibum his shampoo. “I just really like to hear it.”

“But why?”

“I don’t know,” Minho giggles. “We will have to…explore that,” he offers suggestively.

“Well, let’s do it now!”

“Kibum, I don’t know if I’m ready to-”

“No, not like that,” Kibum chortles. “I meant this…”

He kisses Minho’s forehead. “‘ _I love you._ ’”

That’s a phrase Minho knows, and it’s even one he knows how to respond to.

“‘ _I love you, too._ ’”

 


End file.
